Home
by LaMindy
Summary: Nezumi has never felt like he belonged anywhere. Even after two years of traveling, he still isn't satisfied. Something is lacking. The simple company of having someone there. So... Maybe he should return? "Stop it, he reprimanded himself. Nothing good would come from reliving pieces of his life that were no more. Those times were gone."


He wasn't happy. Two years had passed since the fall of No.6. Two whole years had gone by, and Nezumi still wasn't satisfied. Over 700 days of traveling around in seemingly endless cities, he was tired.

What had he left that damn city for anyway? What had he hoped to achieve? To see? Experience? Why he had escaped the once corrupted place was beyond him. He could have He supposed he'd just been scared. Afraid of the unknown future, of a new life with the annoying albino. Terrified of commitment.

He quickly pushed the thoughts out of his mind and focused on the sole task he had before him. A simple game. It wasn't like he had any job, and money didn't just appear in one's pocket. He had always been talented at tricking people, deceiving them.

Not his problem anyway, that idiots with no real life ventured half their fortune, just because they thought they had the advantage in the game. Too bad for them, Nezumi was especially skilled at turning tables in his favor.

Laying his cards down, he enjoyed the sight of the shabby man's jaw drop. He was obviously trying to keep his cool, Nezumi noted, but his hand betrayed him. It shook as he lowered his own decorated pieces of carton onto the table.

The rat smirked and reached out to grab his prize. Enough for a week, at least. A bony hand clasped around his wrist, stopping his motion. Nezumi glanced up, and met the panicked glare belonging to his opponent.

"You–! You, you cheated!"

Nezumi simply stared at him, unamused. "No," he said evenly. "I didn't." His voice was steady and emotionless, but his eyes stormed. He was hungry and worn. He had won. Using his time on bad losers was not something he intended to do.

With one swift movement, he tore his arm free with ease. The man's unkempt nails left long scratching marks around his wrist.

"No, I can't.. I can't, I didn't... I was winning!" the loser was almost on his knees, pleading with his eyes. "Please, it's all I have..!"

"You lost. Get over it." Collecting the stack of money, Nezumi turned on his heels, leaving the man to drown in his misery. No guilt haunted him.

* * *

Nezumi had never felt like he belonged anywhere. Rather, he felt distant to every place he'd ever been to. Even his place back in the Western District hadn't been good enough. It had always lacked something. His earliest childhood memories consisted of fear, running and hiding. Never had he felt the security of a true home.

It hadn't usually bothered him much, but now, he felt like he was missing it.

_Strange, _he thought, distinctly munching on a piece of bread. _How can you miss something you never had?_

Wetness hit his exhausted pant leg. Looking up, he discovered a darkening sky looming over the city. Well, to be damned. Hamlet peeked up from one of his pockets, but quickly resigned when a water bead clashed with his head.

People had already started to clear out from the streets, hurrying off to their warm homes and loving families. He didn't care. He didn't. His thoughts were absentmindedly floating back, searching for memories with a happy airhead and stinky dogs.

_Stop it,_ he reprimanded himself. Nothing good would come from reliving pieces of his life that was no more. Those times were gone. Another drop hit his head, and his ears barely picked up the distant, but unmistakable sound of thunder.

He would better find a hotel to spend the night. His newly earned money would disappear before dawn.

Nezumi would often find refugee at cheap inns or kind people who offered him a couch to crash on, but his location was currently in the more wealthy part of the city. Those things were uncommon in these types of areas. He would prefer to walk to the next region, but the storm was approaching fast. If it was one thing he had learned after many years on his own, it was that his health was something he should take care of. Sickness was avoidable most of the time, and he was smart enough to keep potential risks at a certain distance.

By the time he reached a hotel that offered a bed without robbing him for every last coin, he was almost completely soaked. He hurried to his room as soon as the keys were placed in his hand. He couldn't wait to stand under the warm pouring water of the shower.

* * *

The bed was made and ready to welcome anyone under its comforting sheets, but it remained empty. Nezumi was positioned by the tiny window that decorated one of the walls. Rain fell heavily against the glass, blurring the view to the city. He didn't really see anything, anyway. He was unwillingly caught up in a turmoil of flashbacks and forgotten memories.

White hair. Laughter. Coiling snake. Sharing. The smell of cooking. Their banters. He did miss it, he supposed. The simple company of having someone there.

Nezumi wondered if Shion had continued his reading of Shakespeare. If he had kept his books. If he hadn't, he would kick his ass. Well, he would have to ask him when he returned, then.

Wait, return? The rat's mind went momentarily blank. What was he doing out here anyway? Nothing. Why was he here? No idea. What had he achieved? Not much. Then.. should he just travel back to No.6? ...Yeah. He should.

Finally approaching the bed, he flopped down, preparing for the long awaited rest. Three tiny figures curled up beside him. The mental image of red eyes and a gentle smile did not leave him, even in his sleep.

* * *

He was up and about earlier than he had expected. He didn't carry many belongings and he was never a slow poke, so he was out the door five minutes after waking. From his resident in No.2 to an unknown address in No.6. He roughly sketched out a map in his mind .The road back would take weeks, maybe months. Nezumi released his breath in a sigh. He should just get going.

He threw his old, beloved scarf around his neck and packsack onto his back, and started walking. His rats were safely stationed in his pockets.

Giving the sleepy receptionist a polite wave and goodbye, he started moving to the outskirts of the town. The shabbier areas always had a place to gamble. Turning a corner, he found just what he wanted. Smiling triumphantly, he made his way towards the timeworn casino. He could only hope for luck with his cards.

* * *

Leaving the casino and with it, raging and spluttering gamblers, Nezumi felt quite pleased with his achievements. Five hours of game-play had paid off in the end, with only three losses among 23 wins. Boarding the train, he leaned comfortably back in his seat.

He laid mile after mile behind him, his feet tiring and hands stiff from gambling every other day. Soon, it would all be worth it. Just a little longer. A few more steps, a couple of more games. Soon.

* * *

He turned anxious when the train slowed to a halt. Moments later, he discovered that setting his foot in No.6 was the most relieving, yet disgusting action he had conducted in a long time.

With Hamlet's help, finding Shion's location wasn't too hard. But approaching the address was. Every step was a strain, but he pulled it off. He felt nervous, but of course that wasn't it. He was Nezumi. He could never get nervous over such a small deal. But he was. Because in all honesty; it wasn't such a small deal.

The first snow fell and coated Nezumi's hair and jacket with white powder. The frosty air made him bury his face in his scarf and his hands in pockets.

Another train trip. More steps. His anxiousness grew bits by bits, but he continued forward. And finally, after long days with traveling, little sleep and skipped meals, he stood outside Shion's door. Glancing up at the second floor, he noticed one important detail. The window was open.

And with the cold creeping, only an idiot would refuse to close the window.

The nervousness was washed away as he with courage knocked twice at the wooden door. Rustling from the inside met his ears. A thud. Someone bumping something. Fiddling with the lock. The door opening wide, revealing Shion. Sure, an aged and mature Shion, but his Shion non the less. Nezumi smiled.

"You're home," the white-haired man said, eyes wide and body stiff.

Then it hit him. Yes, Shion was right. For as long as he could remember, Nezumi had thought he hadn't really fitted in anywhere. But that empty feeling did not reside inside him anymore. Because, in reality, he'd had the possibility of belonging someplace for a long time now.

"You're home."

How stupid of him.

A body collided with his and he raised his hands to return the hug. Holding him tight, feelings of affection and tenderness welled up in him and engulfed his entire being.

The warmth retracted, and Nezumi found himself staring into beautiful, red eyes. He wasn't scared anymore.

He was finally home.

* * *

**A/N**: Another "return"-fic! This one is much happier than my first, though :D

I hope you enjoyed! Though I wrote this in the middle of the night/ beginning of the morning.. So I apologize for any mistakes and/or weird phrasing, haha x)

Constructive criticism is always appreciated!


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